


The End of the Story

by WatercolourSkies



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Other, Pining, Post-Canon, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), TW: small mention of suicidal thoughts, Tired Crowley (Good Omens), demons require sleep, especially Crowley, they're just both really adorable okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatercolourSkies/pseuds/WatercolourSkies
Summary: Crowley can't sleep.He realises that, ironically, sleep should be coming easier to him than it has for the past eleven years. After all, Armageddon didn't happen, the world didn't end, Heaven and Hell may actually leave them alone (at least for the foreseeable future), and yet, something feels off. It almost seems like it was all too easy...Like this can't be the end of the story.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	The End of the Story

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally meant to be about 2000 words long, but here we are!  
> This was one of my first ideas for Good Omens fanfiction, and the one that made me finally ignore the part of me begging me to focus on the novel I'm writing, and I'm actually really glad I did because now I'm actually enjoying writing again???  
> So I hope you enjoy this story! Thank you for clicking on it.

Crowley couldn’t sleep. 

Try as he might, his brain seemed determined to keep whirring throughout the night. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, how many times he tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, even when he resorted to counting sheep (he was well aware that this was a tactic that had never worked for anyone ever, but he was desperate), sleep still did not come. Not even lying perfectly still and trying to clear his mind worked, because just when he was beginning to grow drowsy, another thought would pop into his mind that set it alight once more. 

But what was it that was making it so impossible for Crowley to drop off? Surely he should’ve been having the best night’s sleep he’d had in the past eleven years, given everything that had happened. For one thing, the world wasn’t ending; plus, it appeared that Heaven and Hell were finally going to leave him and Aziraphale alone, at least for the time being. The world was safe, and they were safe to live on it. Any reason he might have had to worry or stress had been dealt with. 

Except, maybe the fact that it had all been dealt with was actually what was causing Crowley to stress. He just couldn’t stop thinking that it had all been too easy, that surely it couldn’t be over yet. That this couldn’t be the end of the story. 

He let out an exasperated sigh. Plan J – holding his pillow over his face to block out any noise from outside that his subconscious may have been aware of – clearly wasn’t getting him anywhere. It really looked like tonight just wasn’t the night to get a healthy amount of sleep that would help him function the next day. 

He got up and, all on autopilot, stepped into his slippers and padded into the kitchen (did it really count as a kitchen when it mainly only contained alcohol?) in search of the best alternative to sleep known to man: coffee. 

He opened a cabinet just as he remembered: what with the recent saving-the-world business, he’d forgotten to restock his coffee supplies since he ran out last week. Great. Just great. 

Looking back, Crowley would definitely put his next decision down to his sleep-deprived, simultaneously energy-filled and exhausted and entirely delusional state, but in that moment, it seemed like a really good, sensible idea to go and see if Aziraphale had any coffee. 

Luckily, Crowley was awake enough to know that it was a good idea to get dressed, remember his keys, and so on, before leaving and getting into the Bentley. He threw on a Queen album, started the car and, without a second thought, began the journey to Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

The night air appeared to sober him up even further, or at least enough for him to be able to drive to the bookshop without falling asleep at the wheel, hitting anyone (he’d already experienced that once, and was definitely not in a rush for it to happen again), or doing anything else that put him and the occasional pedestrians he saw crossing in any more danger than usual, considering that his average day did consist of driving at at least seventy miles-per-hour in a thirty-five zone. 

It was only when he got to the bookshop itself did he realise how ridiculous this was. Maybe listening to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ at almost full volume while driving hadn’t been the smartest thing to do, as it must have blocked out any thoughts he may have had asking him what was he doing? Why was he attempting to visit Aziraphale when his angel was almost definitely asleep, given that it was – he glanced at his watch – quarter to one at night, which meant that Aziraphale would almost definitely be asleep and Crowley should definitely not have been seconds away from knocking on his door unless it was an emergency, which running out of coffee definitely was not. Crowley didn’t even like coffee that much, and yet here he was, for some reason thinking that it constituted waking someone up, even after the day that he and that person had had. 

Their lunch that day at the Ritz had started off well. Very well, in fact. Crowley was really enjoying himself, and Aziraphale appeared to be, too. This had happened before Crowley had started worrying about whether he was safe to stop worrying about everything (yes, he did realise how ironic that was), so him getting worked up about that was not the issue. Still, not that long after they toasted the world together, things began to go downhill. They didn’t have an argument or anything like that, but their conversation seemed to die down as Aziraphale kept looking like there was something he needed to say, but then saying that it ‘didn’t matter’, or instead making small talk, acting as if that was what he’d wanted to say all along. Crowley hadn’t been convinced, and would have said something if Aziraphale hadn’t asked him about his plants, resulting in a twenty minute rant from Crowley about how it felt like they weren’t even trying anymore, and how he would have to stop being so soft with them if they weren’t going to respect him. 

Now, he was so busy lecturing himself that he didn’t take on board the fact that, through one of the bookshop windows, there was a pair of undrawn curtains that revealed that, inside, the lights were still on. 

He turned and started walking back to the Bentley, cursing himself under his breath, and he barely heard the bookshop door open behind him. He only truly registered it when he heard a voice say, “Crowley? What on earth are you doing here? It’s past midnight.” 

Crowley swiftly turned to see Aziraphale at the door, still wearing his usual beige suit. He began to wonder if the angel actually owned any pyjamas, but stopped himself. Probably best not to get on that train of thought. “Oh, hey, angel, um...” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred by his weariness. “Wait, why are you still up?” 

“Well, angels don’t really require sleep,” Aziraphale explained, “but I was actually thinking of giving it a go, as you seem to like it so much. I was just finding it a bit tricky after...” He glanced away. “...well, after everything.” 

That was another consequence of the Fall, it appeared: to feel the pull of slumber, to battle insomnia, to have the urge to fill the body to the brim with caffeine as much as any human. Crowley had come to the conclusion that it was so, while angels could do good at any time and for however long, demons could only commit so many evil deeds before collapsing. Yet another thing that the Arrangement had been a big ‘fuck you’ to. 

“Same!” Crowley replied, probably too loudly, as another surge of energy hit him. “I couldn’t sleep either!” 

Aziraphale frowned. “Are you drunk, Crowley?” 

“No, just extremely tired.” And now he wanted to cry for some reason. “Do you have any coffee?” 

Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley could see how torn he was over wanting to give Crowley a hug and make sure he was okay and seriously question and try hard not to judge what had led him to this moment. Crowley didn’t blame him. Eventually, he said, “You’d better come in.” 

So Crowley did. 

“I was just having one last look at the stars and thinking of finally going to bed,” Aziraphale said as he handed Crowley a steaming mug of coffee – milk, no sugar, just as he had admitted to liking it one day years ago – and then pausing to take a sip of his own even milkier beverage, “when I saw a figure outside the shop looking, I must say, quite lost. I was going to see if they needed any directions, but when I opened the door, I realised who it was.” 

“Sorry,” Crowley found himself saying. A part of him wasn’t sure why he was making such a big deal about this, and yet something told him that it was something more than a spur of the moment decision he would feel embarrassed about if it was ever brought up again. Now that he wasn’t feeling so drowsy, something about what was happening somehow felt... important. 

“Don’t apologise,” Aziraphale instantly replied, looking serious. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Crowley. In fact, I was actually thinking earlier that I wouldn’t mind some company.” 

Crowley felt his cheeks warm slightly. Surely Aziraphale was just being polite? “S’alright then, I suppose,” he murmured, trying to hide his blush in his mug. Wow, Aziraphale really knew how to make coffee. How long had it been since he’d made it for both of them? Crowley couldn’t remember. 

“Was there anything else?” Aziraphale asked after a moment. Something about the way he spoke, the way he wouldn’t meet Crowley’s eyes, made it clear that he was nervous. Crowley wondered if it was for the same reason he’d acted this way at the Ritz. “Anything else you wanted to talk about, I mean. Or did you just want to see me... or have some coffee?” 

Crowley shook his head and was about to tell him that he was afraid that nothing more than sleeplessness induced delirium had brought him here, when he stopped. His mind had been overrun by thoughts before – that was the whole reason why he was still awake. Maybe, now that he was here, it made sense to get everything off his chest. Actually, maybe he hadn’t just come here because he needed coffee and Aziraphale was the only person he knew it was safe to visit now. Maybe telling him everything was his subconscious’ real intention all along. 

“Um...” Now all he had to do was work out where to begin. “There is something.” 

He couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he saw Aziraphale’s eyes light up at that. “Yes?” 

Crowley put down his mug. “Y’see, it’s all over now, isn’t it? We stopped Armageddon, we didn’t die, everything’s okay. But it just feels like... is it?” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s shoulders dropped, which for him was like someone slouching low in their seat in disappointment (but disappointed by what? Was there something that he’d wanted Crowley to say instead?), so basically the equivalent of Crowley sliding out his seat and onto the ground. Quickly, Aziraphale replaced his disheartened expression with one of determination. Determination, Crowley assumed, to get to the bottom of his plight and help him in whatever way he could. The thought almost made him smile, because Aziraphale really was unironically that nice, wasn’t he? 

“I suppose we can’t be sure,” his angel continued, “but I think we can at least hope so, after everything we’ve – actually, the world – has gone through.” 

“But that’s just it!” Crowley stood up, and it wasn’t long before he found himself pacing around the bookshop, his words growing louder and more passionate as he went on. “It feels like we didn’t go through enough. I said before that _we_ saved the world, but was that even us? Sure, we played a part in it, but after the Antichrist kid disowned Satan, there wasn’t really anything else left to do. Plus, those, um...” He waved his hand at Aziraphale. “That girl I hit with my car and her boyfriend.” 

“Anathema and Newton,” Aziraphale supplied instantly. Of course he’d gone to the trouble of learning the names of everyone involved. 

“That’s it.” Crowley swiftly got back on course. “So, they stopped World War Three from happening. And what did we do? We gave a pep talk to a kid and basically nothing else.” He almost tripped on the rug and saw, as he steadied himself, Aziraphale’s hand reached out as if to catch him. “I mean, I don’t mean you didn’t do anything. You did, you were great. You were a lot more help than me... 

“Then there was obviously the whole business with Heaven and Hell, but we didn’t even do that by ourselves. We had Agnes Nutter to more or less tell us what to do, albeit in a cryptic way... And now here we are!” He stopped pacing to turn to look at Aziraphale. Quite out of breath by this point, Crowley finished weakly, “I don’t know, I just have the feeling that it was all too easy.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said now that he had the chance to talk, “are you, and forgive me if I’m wrong, but are you saying that you wanted things to be more difficult?” His voice quietened, and he looked like he was really hoping that he _was_ wrong. “Did you... want to face your execution in your own body?” 

Crowley instantly knew what Aziraphale was getting at. “No!” he exclaimed, whipping off his sunglasses to rub his face, and then shoving them in his pocket. This was not the first time Aziraphale had jumped to this conclusion, and he really wished he wouldn’t. It wasn’t that he had never had any thoughts like that, but that was all they: thoughts. “I didn’t - I don’t want to die, angel. I’m just scared that we’re not as safe as we think.” He stopped for a second, taking in for himself what he’d said. “There, I said it. I’m scared, Aziraphale, because there’s... there’s something missing, I’m sure of it. This can’t be the end of the story of the end of the world that wasn’t, because there’s something missing from it.” 

Aziraphale nodded, considering all of this, and put his hand on the seat next to him, looking like he was about to pat it and ask Crowley if he wanted to sit back down, before changing his mind. Instead, he stood up and approached him. “I think I can understand what you’re saying,” he said gently. “I suppose I’ve been feeling it too, now you mention it. It does just seem slightly optimistic to assume that Heaven and Hell will never bother us again, and we’re now free to be on our own side for eternity.” He paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. “But it’s not just that. I suppose ending the story here, as you put it, does seem a bit premature. I don’t know what it is, but you’re right, perhaps there is something else that needs dealing with that we’ve forgotten.” 

Now Crowley was the one feeling torn. Part of him wanted to cry with happiness, because it wasn’t just him overthinking things, Aziraphale could see it too, but for the exact same reason, another part felt like he should be more worried than ever. If this wasn’t just him stressing over nothing, that could mean that there was something they hadn’t accounted for. 

“But what?” he said, once again raising his voice without meaning to. Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley wished he could take it back, but found himself only able to continue (but at a lower volume, at least). “What is it that we’ve forgotten, if there is anything? What’s going to happen? What did we forget to do?” 

But before he could work himself up into any more of a frenzy, Aziraphale took his hands and said, “Crowley.” Just that: his name, in Aziraphale’s calm, soft way, and yet it held more power, more volume than the longest speech or loudest shout. “Crowley, please. I’m sorry, I was trying to help, but I’ve just upset you.” He let out a small sigh. “I’m sure there’s nothing we forgot, really. It’s probably normal to feel this way after the few days we’ve had – in fact, the whole eleven years, if not more.” He smiled, and suddenly Crowley could feel a lightbulb flicker inside his head as everything began to make sense. “Even if you are right and this isn’t the end, whatever happens, it won’t be our fault, because we did everything we could.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hands, sending a spark of electricity through him. “ _You_ did everything you could.” 

Of course. Of course that’s what it was. How had he not figured it out before? All this time he’d been worried about their lives – the lives of billions of people – being threatened once more, when the real answer had been standing right in front of him all along. The being who he had begged to leave with him when it felt like all hope was lost, the only being he felt safe to visit now, who had knocked all of the breath out of his body just by finally saying that they were on their own side, who he’d been in love with since the beginning of time. 

He now knew for sure that the thing that was missing was the one who’d really never left his side, because even when they were apart, Crowley knew that they would find each other again. 

“It’s you,” he said. “Aziraphale, you’re what’s missing!” 

“I’m right here,” his angel replied, and for a moment Crowley worried that Aziraphale had misunderstood (he wasn’t sure he could take having to spell it out) when he found a gentle hand on each side of his face and Aziraphale’s face inches away from his own. 

Crowley had no idea how he managed to resist the urge to retrieve his sunglasses and put them back on – as right now he was feeling so exposed and vulnerable, with Aziraphale’s beautiful blue eyes gazing tenderly into his own, which he knew and had always known were far less beautiful – the urge to make some strange, panicked noise in his throat, the urge to ruin everything when this was something he’d been dreaming of for literal millennia. Somehow, he managed to not do any of that, and instead slowed his breathing, lowered his head slightly to make closing the distance less of a struggle, and loosened his jaw, only just realising how tight it had been. This was something he’d rehearsed in his head countless times before, so he couldn’t lose himself now that it was finally happening. 

But then it didn’t happen. Not quite yet, anyway. Instead of Aziraphale’s lips on his, he felt their noses brush together. He opened his eyes to see his angel gazing at him, his eyes nervous yet hopeful, a small smile on his slightly parted lips. A gaze that clearly read, ‘Is this okay?’ 

This was not how the situation had gone in Crowley’s mind whenever he’d imagined it. He had never prepared for the possibility that he might have to be the one – even when they were both clearly already sure – to decide. And yet, with the way that Aziraphale was looking at him, and how it had undone all the work he’d put into breathing evenly again, his whole being filled with longing, doting and, most importantly, love for his angel, it was the easiest decision he’d ever had to make. 

He gave a tiny nod before moving forward a centimetre and closing the space between them, their lips meeting the crescendo in an orchestra’s finishing piece, and they were kissing. Actually, finally kissing. 

Crowley brought his hands to Aziraphale’s waist, bringing him as close as he’d always wished he could. He felt Aziraphale’s hands slide back into his hair, and he deepened the kiss. A small, contended sound escaped Aziraphale’s lips as he opened his mouth against his, making Crowley’s grip tighten on Aziraphale’s sides. 

Before, Crowley had struggled to understand when humans said that something was like ‘being in Heaven’, because, at least to him, Heaven really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He still thought that, of course, but now he was beginning to understand the sentiment. 

When they came apart, just to take catch their breath, Aziraphale’s eyes were crinkled with happiness. 

“I love you, Crowley,” he said breathlessly. 

Crowley was hardly sure if he needed to confirm that of course he loved him back, because he’d gotten so used to feeling that way. But he did say it, and he was sure that saying it with the full knowledge that he wouldn’t be misunderstood or rejected because Aziraphale definitely loved him was the best feeling in the world. 

“I love you too, Aziraphale,” he said, and then added without thinking, “my angel.” He’d called Aziraphale ‘angel’ many times before, but he’d only ever prefaced this with ‘my’ in his head, but now it felt like he could finally say it aloud, as maybe now Aziraphale really could be his, and he could be Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale’s smile widened, and Crowley was glad to find his lips on his again, as otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. 

Many kisses later, they both knew that, sadly, it was time for a break. 

“Um,” Aziraphale puffed out from up on the counter he had at some point ended up sitting on, Crowley’s hands braced on the piece of furniture either side of Aziraphale. “That was wonderful,” he seemed to remember to say before saying what he had first intended to. Crowley didn’t blame him for this, as it was kind of a given, the way he saw it. He wasn’t sure if that even made sense, but he knew that he’d have probably done the same thing had he been the first to speak. “Do you want to have a sit down?” 

For a dizzy moment, Crowley thought that he meant sit next to him on the counter, but quickly realised that he was talking about the sofa, which did make a lot more sense. Now that Aziraphale mentioned it, his legs were getting a bit tired now there wasn’t anything (ranting, panicking, kissing) to distract him from it. He supposed he hadn’t actually sat down since he’d begun his rant, which already felt like countless hours ago. 

He nodded and took Aziraphale’s hands to help him down – both fully knowing that he was capable of doing it on his own, and it was really just a wordless, mutual excuse to hold hands – and made their way over to the sofa. Crowley knew that he was wearing the grin that he’d been reluctant to before, but now it didn’t really seem so bad. 

Ever since their last kiss had ended, Crowley couldn’t stop his head from filling with thoughts of how amazing it had been, wondering whether Aziraphale had enjoyed it as much as he had (a question that Aziraphale saying that he had had at least partially answered), when their next kiss would be... 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, unable to help himself. “Kiss you, I mean,” he clarified, although it was probably obvious given the context. 

Aziraphale gave him one of his little smiles. “I think I may have some idea. Or, at least...” He shook his head, still beaming. “Never mind.” 

Crowley didn’t know what to say. Did Aziraphale mean that he had loved him for a long time, as well? Had they both spent far too long worrying that their love was unrequited and never risking saying anything, not just Crowley? Or did he mean that he _had_ known that Crowley felt that way about him? Surely not. While Crowley could see Aziraphale not telling him his feelings just because he was worried about what Heaven would say, not Crowley, he knew Aziraphale well enough to know that he would have done whatever he could to make sure he wasn’t leading Crowley on, even if it meant cutting contact with him altogether. Unless... 

It didn’t matter. There would be time for those questions to be answered, so there was no need to rush. Instead of beginning an interrogation, he simply replied, “I guess I should be glad we finally got to, then.” It wasn’t much, but at least it was more coherent than the jumbled questions he was pushing to the side-lines for now. 

Aziraphale nodded, and scooted nearer to Crowley, laying his head on his shoulder. Crowley blushed at the contact and put his arm around his angel, pressing his cheek into Aziraphale’s curls in return. 

“Did I interrupt you?” Aziraphale asked then. 

“Hm?” 

“Before. You were worrying about this not being the end, and then, um... we sort of got distracted.” 

“Oh, yeah.” He paused. “No, I don’t think you did. I think I just realised that the thing that was missing from the story was us being together, and now that’s been dealt with.” He realised that that hadn’t been completely confirmed, and hastily amended, “I mean, uh, as long as you’re...” 

“I’d like us to be together,” Aziraphale said, rescuing Crowley yet again from becoming a complete mess. “I did say I love you, Crowley.” 

“Oh. I mean, yeah. Good.” This was getting off topic. “Um, so, no, I was done.” 

“Okay...” Aziraphale said, but he seemed to pick up on something. “But I am here if you do want to continue the conversation, or talk about anything else.” He looked up at Crowley, wearing that same serious expression he’d had when Crowley had apologised for being here, his eyes speaking multitudes. 

“Thanks.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder and hoped that his expression communicated just as much, and the grin and kiss on his cheek he received helped him feel sure that it had done its job. 

It would turn out to be extremely fortunate that Aziraphale had picked up on there perhaps being more bothering Crowley than he was letting on – whether he was withholding this information on purpose or because even he wasn’t completely aware of it yet. In the future, there would be a lot more conversations worth having, where Crowley would stress about the past, present or future, and Aziraphale would be there for him. Sometimes it would be the other way around, because Crowley wasn’t the only one with memories and worries, withheld and unrealised alike, to unpack. Luckily, they would have each other to get them to the other side every time. 

“I really do love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said again after they’d sat in tender silence for a short while, “so much.” 

“I love you so much, too.” 

Crowley was then able to cross off one of his questions: when would they kiss next. 

They both decided, in their entirely smitten, content state, that it would be a good idea for Crowley to stay the night with Aziraphale, and not risk driving all the way home given how pitch black the sky was. It was definitely far too late for that. 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering what that last paragraph was insinuating... in my mind at least, they went on to cuddle. That is all I have to say.  
> I hope you liked my interpretation of what happened after canon ended, or - if you will - the only Season 2, Episode 1 I will accept (haha jk... unless?). I'm currently writing this in a script format, which is mainly the same, but with an extra scene and some flashbacks and extra dialogue, so please let me know if you might be interested in seeing that when it's finished!  
> Sorry if the notes have been annoying at all... I'm pretty tired right now and I feel as if I can't write them in the way I want them to come out... This is why you don't sit in front of the computer all day long, I guess!  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and have a lovely day! <3


End file.
